


Never Poke A Sleeping Dragon

by Alliegirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-26 07:10:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliegirl/pseuds/Alliegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But try as she might, the books don't lie. Hermione buried her head in the pillow once more and sobbed. She was in love with Draco Bloody Malfoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Patronus

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, Allie here :) So this is one of my lighter fics. I don't want to get too dark with the Dramione yet :) Sorry if its a little scattered, drop me a line if you think I can fix it somehow, this actually used to be about three chapters... So, thanks :)
> 
> Love you all!
> 
> Allie

_**Chapter 1: The Patronus**   
_

_It is quite common for a patronus to change shape during one's lifetime. It responds to happiness in the memories, and when those memories are centered around a certain person, they make take the shape that resembles that person. It is said that the patronus takes the form of the one you love. It is not uncommon for a patronus to change shape more than once, either. It is connected to the heart of the magic inside, and therefore when that heart is affected, so is the patronus._

_For example, when someone suffers a great loss of the heart…_

Hermione slammed the book shut and scrubbed at her eyes. All of them said the same thing! She threw book after book into her magically expanded bag and stormed out of the library.

_This cannot be happening!_ She raged to herself.

Storming down the many staircases, she missed a trick step and when it vanished, went flying down the stairs. She tumbled into a heap on the landing and curled up into a little ball around herself, silent tears streaming down her face.

She lay there for a moment, then silently berated herself for being in such a compromising position. The portraits were looking at her in silent concern. She only shook her head mutely and gathered up her belongings.

When she finally made it back to the Heads' common room, she had performed three drying spells on her face, and one  _scourgify_  for good measure, but she was almost positive there were still some revealing signs that she had been crying. She sighed, that's all she needed right now, was for the other Head to know she had been crying.

"Alea iacta est." She mumbled to the tapestry which then dissolved into a rather ornate door.

Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath and pushed the door open; ready to face whatever he could throw at her.

What she saw, however, threw her off-balance. He was pacing furiously, only to come to an abrupt halt when she entered. His stormy grey eyes focused on her, and he looked angry and almost a little,  _concerned_?

She froze also. They stood there, for a moment, locked in eye-contact, neither of them able to look away. Then he seemed shake himself out of it, "Where the hell have you been, Granger!?" He was mad, then. She must have imagined the concern part. "Never mind, I don't care, just make sure you find a replacement for your rounds next time. If I have to cover for you with Longbottom one more time, I'll end him." He snarled the last bit, turned on his heel and stomped up the stairs to his room.

"I never asked for you to cover for me, Malfoy!" She heard the door slam a few beats later.

Dropping her bag on her way to her favorite squishy arm chair, she muttered obscenities about the "ferret-faced blonde."  _I can't believe I forgot it was my night to patrol._ She sighed and dropped her head into her hands, massaging her temples.

_This is worse than third-year._  She was exhausted, between Head Girl duties, and being in the Order tracking down the Death Eaters that had managed to escape, she was living off of a few hours of sleep whenever she could get them.

And, on top of all of that, she was currently living with the one and only, Draco Bloody Malfoy. It could have been anyone else, but no. It had to be Draco Bloody Malfoy. Awarded Head Boy for his heroics during the war. He had followed his godfather's footsteps and joined the Order, whilst playing Voldemort's right-hand man. Which meant Hermione had to work with him inside and outside of school. There was no escape.

Malfoy had been the one to catch his father, putting him in Azkaban, permanently.

He was quieter now, less inclined to start fights, especially with the Golden Trio, since two significant thirds were just itching for a way to send him to be with his father. But he was still just as arrogant, especially with the other Slytherins. Always their Prince.

Maybe now more than ever, subtly trying to stomp out the last of the blood supremacy ideals. If Draco Malfoy, Pureblood Extraordinaire, held close to Voldemort himself, switched sides, then maybe it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Almost everyone had come back after the war. The Eighth-Years, or so they had named themselves, resumed their places in school, as most of them had been pulled out early during their final term.

There were a few exceptions, too many of Slytherin's students had been corrupted, and they had fought against the rest of Hogwarts. They had not received their owls that summer, inviting them back. Hermione guessed most of them now attended Durmstrang.

She shrugged it off, not really caring enough to worry about what ex-Slytherin's were up to.

Instead she grasped her wand, muttered an  _incendio_ to relight the fire, and sat down to reread her notes on patronuses.

_Patronuses are complicated. They take your sense of security, what makes you happy in the face of utter despair, what combats the fear and strife that you stand against. Therefore, it takes the shape of your protector, or of what you are protecting, in some cases .Because it is so connected to your heart, your inner light, it requires a happy memory. That memory, when it is centered on someone important, the Patronus can take the shape of the animal specific to them. It is also very common for a witch's or wizard's patronus to change over time. When one falls in love, the patronus follows the heart._

This book almost ended up in the fire, Hermione threw this one so hard. She covered her face with a pillow and screamed. Firmly stuck in denial, she lifted her head and grasped her wand lying on the table.

She cast her patronus, summoning up the happiest memory of her and Ron she could, when he kissed her after the Battle of Hogwarts.

" _Expec—"_ But despite all of her efforts, a certain blonde ferrety face popped into her mind's eye. " - _to Patronum!"_

A bright, silvery wolf streamed out of her wand's tip, and ran around the room. He came to a stop in front of her, and seemed to say,  _What, you called me out here for nothing?_ Then dissolved away.

She knew that memory, the one where they had found out about their living arrangements. He had tentatively offered a smile at her, waiting to see if she would hex him. "Well, Granger, I guess we're stuck with eachother."

She had just stared at him, unwilling to believe that his face was capable of making that expression. It haunted her later that night, that shy smile, leaving her to come to think she had imagined it. He didn't offer it up again for some time.

_I'm just tired,_ she rationalized.  _It's just been a long day, no, a long week, with everything going on at Headquarters. I'm just tired. I'm overworked, I didn't get enough sleep, I'm just tired._

But try as she might, the books don't lie.

Hermione buried her head in the pillow once more and sobbed.

She was in love with Draco Bloody Malfoy.


	2. Alea Iacta Est

That night Hermione dreamed.

She dreamed every night now, since the war. Nightmares, horrific, gory nightmares.

Of course she had studied up on it, what the muggles called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Most of the treatments were drugs, and were therefore out of the question.

So Hermione buried her life under a mountain of work and tucked away the dreams and mood swings. It worked, for the most part. But the hardest parts were the nights.

At night, when she was asleep, her defenses were down. She couldn’t recite tables or spells to keep the images of the dead away. And there were so many dead. They haunted her, their faces and unfinished stories. Everyone had left someone behind, but some were closer than others.

Tonks and Lupin were frequent visitors in her nightmares. Sometimes they fought together, and sometimes they were fighting to get to the other, but they never made it.

That, unfortunately, was tonight’s theme, Tonks and Lupin were on the Hogwarts grounds where they both fell, fighting against shapeless blobs of black shadow. Hermione saw them both fall, taken by different curses. She saw them hit the ground, broken, and she saw them being taken to the repurposed Great Hall.

She was unable to do anything; of course that’s what made it a nightmare. She didn’t have her wand; she didn’t have a muggle weapon. She was useless, powerless against the dark forces that claimed her friends.

She would wake up screaming, thrashing around in the blankets like a patient at St. Mungo’s. Even with the silencing charm she placed on her room every night, people somehow found out, she could see it in the sympathetic looks in the halls, and Madame Pomfrey had approached her one day after Ancient Runes, offering her a sleeping draught that Hermione had politely declined.

This night, predictably, was no different than all the others. She woke up in the early morning, her throat raw, her hand reaching for her wand, and her pillow wet from tears. Crookshanks had since refused to sleep anywhere near her anymore, so she hugged her pillow tight to her chest and sobbed.

 

* * *

 

 

She was sitting at the Gryffindor table when Harry and Ron stumbled in and sat down heavily. Neither of them had gotten much sleep either, by the looks of it. Ginny wasn’t far behind, by she looked significantly more well-rested.

Harry mumbled something that resembled “Morning,” while pouring some pumpkin juice.

Ron ignored her and started stuffing his face with eggs and toast.

Ginny flashed a quick smile at Hermione in way of greeting and kissed Harry’s cheek. “Whatcha got there, Hermione? Anything worth reading?” She said, nodding at the _Prophet_ spread in front of Hermione’s meager breakfast of fruit and dry toast.

“Nothing at all, I’m afraid.” She said truthfully. The _Prophet_ was even more rubbish now than it had been a few years ago. She folded it resolutely and started in on her Arithmancy book.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until finally Harry joined the waking world and said, “I got a letter from Kingsley the other day, said he might have a new lead on Macnair, somewhere in Russia.”

Hermione sighed, _why can it never be somewhere warm?_

“Excellent! When do we leave?” Ron had decided to join the conversation. He avoided Hermione’s eyes, which was a common habit now.

Ginny snorted in disgust, “Honestly, Ron. We don’t even know where he’s at. _In Russia_. Stop going around half-cocked ready to fight anyone who looks at you funny!”

Hermione sighed again; it seemed to be that kind of morning.

“Sod off, Gin. Don’t tell me what to do.” His ears were turning an unpleasant shade of red.

This had to be difficult for Harry, his best mate and his girlfriend were brother and sister and were biologically programmed to fight, but everyone handled the war differently, and it had put a lot of strain on a lot of relationships.

The Weasley’s were as close as ever, if not closer, but there was always something fragile in the air when they attended Sunday dinner. The Burrow had been rebuilt, thanks to a generous benefactor that everyone assumed was Harry, but there was something about the family that was damaged beyond repair.

Hermione was brought back to earth from her book abruptly when Ginny said hotly, “Right, Hermione?”

Hermione, startled, looked over the pages at Harry for help but he just sat there looking miserable.”Um, well…” She had no idea what they had been arguing about now.

Ron snorted, “Just go back to your book, Hermione. Like you always do. Run away to the library because obviously that’s where all the worlds’ problems are solved.”

Harry tried to intervene, “Ron, mate, c’mon that’s a lit-”

Hermione shook her head, cutting him off. “It’s alright.” She gathered up her things and exited the Great Hall, heading not, in fact towards the library, where Ronald had so kindly suggested she run to, but instead to the Room of Requirement.

Across the hall, a pair of raging gray eyes followed the event and her exit with some hostility.

 

* * *

 

 

The Room of Requirement had survived the fire, but only just. It was injured, but slowly improving. In time it would be just as great as it once was, helping students break the rules as it always has. Hermione has been helping it along, fixing things that can be, and clearing out the things that were ruined beyond repair. It was a tiring job, and often dirty. Ash seemed to get into every crevice possible, and she was constantly washing it out of her hair.

The room seemed to be glad to see her; it conjured one of Hermione’s favorite squishy chairs. And while this was about the limit of what it could do, it was an improvement.

She sat her heavy bag down on it and began to sort through some of the books that had been in the room with the fire. Some of them we nothing but bound ash, fragile to every a breath, but others were barely singed.

_Mind numbing work is exactly what I need. No Ron, no blonde stupid ferrets, no nothing._

And so it began, she worked and cleared out some of the ashes, conjuring shelves and cabinets for the rest.

 

* * *

 

 

Time, being fickle as it is, flew by without her notice. By the time she stopped, it was time for dinner, and she had missed all of her classes. Normally, this would have bothered her, her being Hermione Granger. But today, she couldn’t muster enough feelings to care.

She left the Room of Requirement, murmuring promises to be back soon, and headed back to the Head’s dorm.

There had been no contest for who would be Head Boy and Girl. Both of them were infinitely qualified with academics and their participation in the war.

Harry and Ron had predictably fought against McGonagall when she had announced that Hermione and Malfoy would be living together. While the three of them argued, Hermione had stood there awkwardly, looking everywhere but at him. He stood there looking like he had better things to do, but then he had turned to her and smiled that small smile and her world had tilted.

That was it, though. The only bit of humanity she had ever really seen from him. Since then, he had been withdrawn, distant. Occasionally cold. He had never once called her a Mudblood, or voiced any such opinions from their school days before the war. So that was progress, she guessed.

But for some reason, she could not get that brief moment out of her mind. She must be imagining things.

“Alea iacta est” The tapestry shimmered into the door that she pushed open.

Luckily, the one person she wanted to avoid wasn’t there. She smiled in relief and curled up in the armchair by the fire, and started on her Potions essay. Skipping class wasn’t exactly acceptable, but forsaking homework was unthinkable.

She got about four inches down the page before her eyelids started drooping, and about another half an inch before the quill slipped from her hand to flutter to the floor.


	3. Nightmares Are Dreams Too

**_  
_**

_Nightmares Are Dreams Too_

****

Hermione had fallen asleep in her chair. And because nightmares are cruel creatures, they tormented her mercilessly, not giving her a reprieve just because she wasn’t sleeping in her own bed.

This particular night terror was different. It starred someone who normally played a different role. This time, instead of a tormentor, they were instead a victim.

She was transported back to that awful manor, with Bellatrix standing above her laughing horribly. There was someone next to her, she could hear their labored breathing, but she couldn’t see them yet. Her eyes were still squeezed shut in agony from the last curse.

 _Please don’t let it be Ron._ She thought, stuck in her anguish. _Anyone but Ron._ The nightmares that featured him were always the worst.

She peeled open her eyes when she was finally able. If she hadn’t already been crying, seeing that shock of white-blonde hair would have started it.

Draco Malfoy was laying there beside her, his eyes open and staring directly at her, but there was no mistaking the lack of light behind them. She had seen that stare many times before, during the war.

He was bloody, there were ugly marks cut into his skin that mirrored hers with different letters. In place of “mudblood” there were the words “blood traitor” and other derogatory brands. He seemed to have been tortured more than even she had, his limbs twisted at odd angles, his clothes torn. But those gray eyes and that stupefying hair was beyond unmistakable.

The word “No” escaped her lips as almost a plea. _This is worse than Ron, please, no._ She shook her head in attempt to distill the image, but he was still there, staring at her. His arm was outstretched towards her curled form, she could see the words clearly but she couldn’t seem to piece together what the scene meant, she was too stuck in the nightmare.

There was no one else in the room now, just his body and her. Somehow this was worse, she almost wanted the normal nightmares back, this one was new and she didn’t know how to deal with it.

 _Wake up, Hermione. You’re just dreaming. You control the dream; you can get out of it._ But that never worked. She just lay there staring into dead eyes that seemed to call to her with some final wish.

She started screaming at herself to wake up, but this also did not work, she was still stuck on that cold stone floor.

Then, Malfoy blinked. Hermione screamed louder in effort to wake herself up.

He righted himself, never breaking his stare. She tried to scoot away, but was rooted to the spot.

“Granger, it’s time to wake up. Granger.”  His voice was soft, caressing, at odds with his appearance. She shut her eyes fiercely and when she opened them, she saw a very different, very alive, Malfoy calling her name.

“Granger! For Merlin’s sake! Wake up!” There was no mistaking the concern now, she was certain. Through her sleep addled brain she noticed his wide eyes and his tense grip on her shoulders.

“Malfoy?” She asked tentatively.

“Well, who else would it be?” He had retreated now, the mask back into place. But she had seen it.

“No one- I just- Well-” she stammered, trying to recover from the shock of both the nightmare and waking up to that face. She pushed away his hands roughly from where they still resided on her arms. “Get off, Malfoy!” She was embarrassed to having been seen like that.

He just kneeled there for a minute before snorting with disgust, the normal Malfoy fully back in commission. “Fine then, Granger, if that’s how you want to play it. McGonagall’s expecting you in her office, something about you missing rounds and skipping classes.” He sneered the last part and stalked off to his room, slamming the door.

Hermione dropped her head into her hands and allowed two tears to trickle down her face before wiping them away and standing. She was Hermione Granger for Godric’s sake, certainly one different nightmare was not going to bring her down. She steeled herself for the inevitable scolding and disappointment that awaited her in McGonagall’s office and left the Head’s dorm.

* * *

 

“Miss Granger, I am truly sorry to have to say this, but we are going to have to ask you to step down as Head Girl. You have been missing classes, and neglecting your Head duties. Whatever is the matter with you? This certainly isn’t like you at all.” Minerva McGonagall stared at Hermione intensely, noting the sleep-deprived, red-rimmed eyes and the way her uniform hung on her now almost skeletal frame.

“Nothing, Headmistress! It’s nothing that I can’t work through! Please don’t demote me from Head Girl! I’ll take extra classes! I’ll do extra rounds! Please!” Hermione couldn’t imagine a greater shame than being lowered from Head Girl.

The former professor considered her student, one of the brightest witches she knew, and still young. She was a Gryffindor through and through all right, always saving the other two. Harry wouldn’t have been able to do anything without her beside him.

Finally, she relented. “Alright, Miss Granger. But one more infraction and I won’t be able to be so lenient with you.”

Hermione sighed with relief, “Thank you, Prof- Headmistress, I won’t let you down.”

“Be sure that you don’t. You’re dismissed.” Hermione exited quickly, aware of just how lucky she was to get out that cleanly. 

Harry was waiting for her when she descended the staircase, “Hermione! Where have you been all day? Did you skip _all_ your classes?”

“Well, I didn’t intend to, I just got caught up in a project is all.” She didn’t want to share the fact that the Room had survived quite yet. Harry had been busy as well, and knowing him, he would probably want everything to just be cleared out so the room could be used again.

“Have you eaten at all today?” He asked, McGonagall wasn’t the only one who noticed how skinny she had gotten.

“Of course, you were there at breakfast.” Truthfully, she hadn’t felt much like eating lately.

Harry just kind of sighed. “Alright, come on. We’re going to the kitchen. You’re too skinny, ‘Mione.”

They made their way down to the elf-run kitchen. Three eager elves ran up to them with plates laden with all sorts of breads and cheeses. Harry grabbed all three and steered her towards one of the tables. He sat down a plate in front of her, “Eat something.”

They sat there munching for a few minutes while an elf brought over two goblets of pumpkin juice, Hermione was sure to smile and thank him.

“How have you been sleeping, Hermione?” Harry was anything but subtle.

“Fine, Harry. Thanks for asking, yourself?” He just gave her a hard look.

“Don’t lie to me; I know you’ve been having nightmares.” Hermione just sat there, picking at a pear.

“Its fine, Harry. Nothing I can’t handle.” She gave him a weak smile.

He sighed, “I’ll let it drop, for now, but you know that you can talk to me, right?”

Hermione gave him a genuine smile this time, “Yeah, Harry, I know.” She grabbed an extra orange to take with her to the Head dorm.

She wandered for awhile, wide awake due to the nap she had unwillingly taken, but when she finally made it back to the Head’s rooms, which were blissfully empty, she discovered she was exhausted.

Placing extra strength wards around her bed hangings that night, she settled down with one of her books from the pile on her desk, muttered _lumos_ and read as the night slipped her by.


	4. Once Upon A Dream

Hermione trudged through the next weeks as if swimming through pudding. The days dragged on even as they grew shorter and shorter with the approaching winter.

But the nights were the worst. Still haunted by the screams and blood of her friends Hermione had taken to preventing herself from sleeping at night at all. She worked on the Room of Requirement, or she read. She dozed in classes, although thanks to her sleepless nights, she had caught up on all of her homework.

Ginny had noticed, and was doing all she could to keep Hermione healthy. Forcing her to eat, taking most of her Head Girl duties on so Hermione could rest.

Still, Ginny wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Luna and Neville, who had several classes with Hermione, saw how she sat in a daze during lectures, her quill still when it normally was flying. And if they had noticed, who else had?

They did all they could without creating scenes. Hermione assured them that she was perfectly alright when they subtly expressed their concern.

_I am alright. I just have to work harder._ When she worked to the point of exhaustion in the day, it was easier to sleep at night.

She fell into a sort of dysfunctional routine. Every morning she would lift the silencing charms laid on her bed hangings, find her way out of the Head’s dorm and down to the Great Hall for breakfast without seeing Malfoy. Then it was classes all day, lunch, and during her free time she was in the library or the Room of Requirement, where she worked until she was barely upright.

The days passed, and the air began to get colder and colder.

 

* * *

 

“Hermione, Mcgonagall wants to see us in her office. Everyone’s already up there. She’s got information about Macnair, we think.” Harry had come up behind her as she nibbled on some toast at breakfast.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then got up and followed him out of the hall.

They slipped in as Mcgonagall was debriefing the rest of the group. Hermione stared at her friends standing around in various positions of the office that was once filled with all sorts of trinkets and fantastic magical knick-knacks. She glanced up at the portraits hanging on the wall, Dumbledore gazed down at her sadly though his half-moon spectacles.

Letting her eyes wander, they stopped to rest on the back of a white-blonde shock of hair that she had been so successful in avoiding lately. As if he could feel the weight of her stare, he turned and caught her eyes in his own. She looked away quickly, put off by the guarded coolness she saw there.

She continued her survey of the room; the usual crowd had answered the summons. Ginny had sidled in next to Harry. Ron was over with Neville and Luna. Malfoy was leaning against a table, scowling.

McGonagall sat in her stiff-backed chair, “Now that everyone’s here, Mcnair has been spotted in a small town outside of Moscow.” She looked at Harry, “Your team will be in charge of apprehending him, and transporting him back to the Ministry for trial.” She handed him the parchment that held all the details of their travel plans and where they would be staying at the Ministry in Moscow’s Headquarters.

Harry glanced at it and handed it straight to Hermione, who took it without hesitation. She would read through it thoroughly to make sure she knew all the facts.

“Ginny, I would make a request that you and Neville stay behind, to assume Head Boy and Girl duties.” McGonagall, ever practical, never left the school with a weak link while the Golden Trio was off on assignment.

Looking like she wanted to argue, Ginny nodded reluctantly. Harry grabbed her hand in his and squeezed.

“That’s settled then, you’ll leave right away, make sure you’ve packed warmly.” She dismissed them with a nod.

They each went their separate ways to gather the usual supplies for assignments.

Hermione went down to the kitchens to gather food and other supplies to put in her magical bag.

Harry went to gather the Invisibility Cloak.

Ron went to try and find some clean socks.

Malfoy went to the Slytherin common room to inform Blaise Zabini, his second-in-command, about his leaving. And grab his fur-lined cloak, as an almost afterthought.

Luna was the first to report to the giant doors, she always was the lightest packer. Hermione was next, followed closely by Harry. They were always half-way packed. Ron crashed down the stairs next, dragging his trunk behind him. Malfoy glided down after him, “Honestly Weasel, I know you can’t do much with that twig you call a wand, but I would think levitation would be even in _your_ range.”

“Piss off, Malfoy!” Ron seemed to spend most of his time perpetually angry nowadays.

“Oh, stop it you two. If you start bickering now, this will be a very long trip.” Luna said, and Hermione silently agreed with her.

Harry looked around then met Hermione’s eyes. They nodded at each other, and Hermione produced the portkey that would take them to the Ministry’s headquarters’ in Moscow. From there they would take a train out of the city, posing as English students on holiday. Any wizard who didn’t live under a rock would know instantly who they were, but the muggles wouldn’t.

“On the count of three, one… two… _three!_ ”

 

* * *

 

They landed back in the foyer of the castle exactly three weeks later, frozen mostly solid and some worse for the wear.

Hermione and Harry supported Luna between them, she was conscious, but fading fast. Madame Pomfrey had been alerted beforehand and whisked her up to the hospital wing without a moment to spare.

Ron immediately stalked off towards his dormitory. Harry had had to reprimand him for almost getting Luna killed in the field. He had let his temper get the better of him and rushed ahead, following the decoy and leaving his partner defenseless. He’s going to have to answer to Neville for that later, Hermione thought darkly.

Harry stood there; shoulders slumped, looking well beyond his years. Hermione reached out her hand to give some comfort, after all, Luna would be fine with Madame Pomfrey’s expertise, and some thanks Malfoy’s incredible quick thinking in the field. Harry looked up at her and gave her a bleak smile but drew away, on his own way, probably to reconnect with Ginny.

Hermione sighed. This had been a rough assignment. The team was imploding; Ron and Malfoy had been at each other’s throats the entire time, prompting Ron to try and outdo Malfoy.

Malfoy cleared his throat delicately, startling Hermione. “Shall we report to McGonagall?” He said quietly. She hesitated a moment, then conceded, they could do it without Harry, he deserved some time with Ginny.

She followed him up the stairs, watching his slender form seem to glide over each step. Stood as he spoke the password, listened to his deep voice that seemed to come directly from his chest; and only when McGonagall asked for the full report did she come back to reality. She handed over her written report and added the few details she hadn’t had a chance to write down since getting back to the castle.

McGonagall sighed, “So the mission was successful overall, well then we’ll chalk this up as a small victory then, yes? Dismissed, please try and get some rest, I’ll see you at dinner.”

They started back towards the Head’s dorm, but Malfoy broke off to run down to the Slytherin’s common room for a full report while he had been away. He still was Slytherin’s Prince, after all, he had to know what was happening below him.

Hermione dropped immediately onto her bed, and was asleep almost instantly.

 

* * *

 

The routine was reestablished, with a few extras thrown in. Hermione visited Luna in the hospital wing daily, usually with Neville or Harry. Malfoy had accompanied her once, and had only stayed to exchange a few cordial words with Luna on her well-being. When he had left, Luna had looked at Hermione curiously for several minutes, glancing between her and the door Malfoy had exited through not five minutes before. _Curious. Very curious._

* * *

 

_It is quite common for a patronus to change shape during one’s lifetime. It responds to happiness in the memories, and when those memories are centered around a certain person, they make take the shape that resembles that person. It is not uncommon for a patronus to change shape more than once, either. It is connected to the heart of the magic inside, and therefore when that heart is affected, so is the patronus._

_For example, when someone suffers a great loss of the heart…_

Once again, Hermione found herself reading that cursed book on the squishy chair in front of the fire. No matter how many times she read the chapter on shifting patroneses, it remained the same.

The words stretched and faded before her closing eyes. _No…_

Her nightmares lately had been manageable, almost normal even. Some weren’t even that bad. So it seems she was overdue for a rather terrible one.

This one opened in the woods. Snow blanketed the ground and fell lightly as she raised her face towards the sky. She looked around for the usual people that starred in her dreams, but this time, she was alone.

She wandered through the trees, nothing was happening. There were no screams of pain, no blood spattering the ground, no purple lights of fatal hexes being flung. Nothing.

She walked this way and that, aimlessly. After walking for an indeterminable amount of time, she happened upon a lake.

Kneeling down, she gently touched the surface, the water was neither freezing nor scalding. Dipping her whole hand in, she watched as the ripples grew and stretched across the previously calm water.

_This is a dream, why not?_ Hermione thought as she waded into the water, still fully clothed. The water gently lapped against her as she went farther and farther out, until she couldn’t touch the murky bottom anymore. She had always been a capable swimmer, but this water seemed thicker than normal, or her limbs felt heavier. She just attributed it to the dream. She swum out to the middle of the lake and floated on her back for some time.

Some way away a wolf began to howl.

The howling drew closer and closer. Hermione ignored it until she heard the splash of a body entering the water.

She hadn’t even realized her eyes were closed until she had to struggle to open them. She was several inches below the surface of the lake and sinking. Her limbs were lead, they wouldn’t obey her instructions to move towards the surface.

_Ah, well. It’s only a dream; it isn’t the first time I’ve died in a dream, after all._

Suddenly there were jaws clamped down on her robes, they pulled her above the surface and started slowly tugging her towards the shoreline. She was still on her back, so she didn’t catch a glimpse of her rescuer until it deposited her unceremoniously onto the rocky shore of the lake.

She lay very still, unable to control her extremities yet. A pure white wolf appeared in her line of sight and whined. It licked her nose gently, and whined again. Black spots danced before her eyes.

The last thing she thought as she spiraled down into oblivion was about whether or not she could lose consciousness if it was only a dream.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione woke slowly. Little flashes of consciousness wound their way into her dark mind. The months of barely sleeping and hardly eating had taken their toll physically and mentally on her.

She was aware of someone holding her hand, of the bright white penetrating her eyelids, and of the low murmurs of worried voices surrounding her.

“Hasn’t been eating…”

“Losing weight… she’s asked to have her uniforms taken in twice already.”

“Hasn’t been patrolling with the Prefects…”

Hermione groaned. “Shhh. She’s waking up.” She peeled open her eyelids, squinting against the harsh glare of white. A pleasantly familiar mess of black hair accompanied a worried look floating above her head. Ginny’s joined Harry almost instantly.

“How are you feeling, ‘Mione?” She asked, kindly.

“Just fine, thank you. What happened?” She tried to sit up, but Harry put a hand on her shoulder. “Apparently you collapsed in one of the fourth floor corridors. It must have been Peeves, because you were soaked through and blue with cold.”

Hermione put a hand to her head, frowning. She remembered being cold, and not being able to move, but there was something else. Something didn’t quite make sense. She tried to recall, but all she got were flashes of immense gray, and then streaks of white.

At that exact moment, Madame Pomfrey bustled in, “Ah, good. You’re awake. How are you feeling? Here, drink this. Out you two, she needs her rest.” She handed Hermione some foul-smelling liquid that looked like troll boogies. Harry looked like he was going to resist, but with his track record in the hospital wing, it was better for him not to argue, and he allowed himself to be pulled out by Ginny.

“I feel fine, thank you. I really should be going, I have to-” Hermione started.

“Nonsense, young lady. You’ve been unconscious for almost two whole days. One more won’t hurt. Drink up, drink up.”

With a grimace, Hermione drank the nasty concoction. Instantly she began to feel drowsy, and was glad she was already lying down.

For the second time in as many days, she sank into the black abyss.

 

* * *

 

When she woke again, it was dark. The hospital wing was very dimly lit by the sliver of moonlight filtering through the windows.

Hermione lay there for a few moments, struggling to break through the fog that seemed to coat her mind.

A slight noise alerted her to a presence to her left. Her head darted and her arms pushed against the sheets in attempt to lift her into a more suitable position. Ghostly white hands shot out and grasped her by the shoulders.

“Please, don’t. You’re still very weak.” His voice was quiet, almost amused, and she recognized it instantly, causing her own breath to catch.

“Malfoy, what are you doing here?”She allowed him to lower her back onto the bed, she was really quite exhausted.

He gave her a weak smile, “Just checking up on things, I’ll be leaving now.” He started to turn away. Her hand shot out as if it had a mind of its own, “No! Wait… please.” She trailed off, embarrassed. There was something, though, something that she just couldn’t remember. But what was it?

He looked shocked for a moment, before the mask slid back into place. He pulled out his wand and with a swish conjured a comfortable-looking chair.

They sat there in uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Hermione realized that she was still holding onto his arm, “Oh! Sorry…” she blushed furiously, releasing him from her tight grip. He just sat there, not moving, not saying anything.

“So, um, what are you doing here?” She asked after a few more silent moments. He switched his gaze from the window to her, and in that moment, she saw his grey eyes illuminated by the moonlight, and she was granted sudden insight. “Oh! It was you! In my dream! But wait, no that’s not possible. You’re not a wolf, unless you’re an…”

There was a beat of hesitation. “Oh,” she said softly, “You’re an animagus. The wolf was real, not a metaphor...” This was almost too much to process for her nutrient and sleep-deprived brain, she struggled to put the pieces together.

“So that means… that wasn’t a dream, was it? I almost died… but you saved me?” Hermione’s mind was spinning in circles, and Malfoy had yet to say a word, he just sat there quietly.

Finally, he began to speak. “I don’t know how you got out of the castle; I was only gone for a few minutes. You weren’t there when I got back to the Head’s dorm, and it was only by dumb luck that I walked by the upstairs window at the exact moment you decided to go swimming in the lake.” He shook his head. “What were you doing down there, Granger? Were you actually trying to die?!” He looked angry, but she couldn’t understand why. “You didn’t even take your wand!” He produced it out of his robes, and she grabbed it eagerly. She felt like she had been missing a part of her own self without it.

“Well?!” He really did look angry.

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I’m not suicidal,” Hermione scoffed. “I just… thought it was a dream.”

He looked at her incredulously. “A dream, Granger? What kind of dreams are you having? Have they gotten this bad?”

She didn’t say anything, Hermione wasn’t about to confess all her problems to Draco Malfoy, even if he did save her life.

He seemed to read this in her eyes. “Fine, then.” He scoffed. “Don’t tell me.” She just shook her head, mute. He sighed and softened a little bit. “It’s really alright; you don’t have to tell me. I understand.” He reached out, as if to touch her hair splayed out on her pillow, but drew back, recovering himself.

Hermione watched as Malfoy seemed to draw in on himself, retreating from her back to behind his marble mask. “As Head Boy, it gladdens me to see the Head Girl is doing better, and I hope to see her on her feet soon.” He made a polite smile, and continued, “Well, it is getting late, and I should make my rounds, I’ll see to it that you have your homework brought to you in the morning.” Stiff and formal, and Malfoy to the end.

He made the chair disappear with a flourish of his wand and swept out of the room gracefully. She watched him go, and began crying as soon as the door had closed softly.

Across the wing, Luna watched the entire exchange with a knowing smile.

 

* * *

 

Hermione was released the next day with a sleeping draught and a promise that Madame Pomfrey would be watching her at mealtimes.

Malfoy had held true to his word, her homework had been dropped off on the table in the Head’s dorm common room. Luckily, she had been far enough ahead that she wouldn’t be struggling to make it up.

She didn’t see him that day until dinner, and only then from across the Great Hall.

But that night, everything changed.


End file.
